KENT:
The ward boundary at the edge of Velmore had been buzzing since dawn, a low, irritating hum that meant something foreign was pressing against my borders.
I stood at the end of the gravel road with Rook and Jinx, watching a regular car idle right on the line where the asphalt met our dirt tracks.
The driver was a human, a completely average man, but his eyes were wide and blank, staring straight through the windshield. He was heavily compelled, his mind entirely hollowed out by a powerful spell that made him nothing more than a voice box.
The moment I approached the vehicle, the man rolled down his window and spoke in a flat, mechanical monotone that didn't belong to him.
"Grace Wilder," the man recited, his jaw moving stiffly. "Resident of apartment 4B on Oak Street, Charlverk.
